The Shooting
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: Just a thing, I don't really know whether to continue or not, so please review etc. :)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I don't really know what this is... please leave reviews etc. :)**

* * *

Sherlock and John ran after the strange character. Sherlock knew which way he was going, somehow. He knew he was going to end up at a dead end. He was curious as to why the stranger had chosen this root, but then again, he wasn't like Sherlock; he didn't have a map of London in his head, so he probably had no idea where he was going to end up. Sherlock ran fast, John was incredibly slow however. Sherlock called after him a couple of times to make sure he hadn't lost him or something, and John would shout yes while continuing to pant.

They'd finally got there. Well, Sherlock and the stranger had. John had to stop running earlier because he felt as though he'd collapse. Sherlock didn't bother to wait for him because he knew by then the mad man would have escaped. Sherlock stood near the entrance, and the only exit, of the alleyway where the man stood in. The man stood near the wall and continuously tried to climb over the wall, even though he knew there was no chance of getting over it; even if he had climbed one of the bins. "You may as well just give up now; you're not going to get away." Sherlock laughed as he slowly walked closer and closer to this insane maniac.

"Oh really?" the man said, pulling a gun from his pocket. Sherlock couldn't see the gun itself as it was so dark, but he was able to see a silhouette of it. He wasn't stupid; he knew reasoning with this man wouldn't work. He wasn't the type of man who could be reasoned with. Unfortunately for him, John was the one who had the gun with him. Sherlock wasn't going to risk attacking the lunatic because one false move and it could be the end. He thought of maybe keeping the guy talking long enough for John to get there.

"I'm not going to let you shoot me."

"It's not really a choice, Mr Holmes. You see, if I don't shoot you I'll be taken in; I'll be put in prison. Do you really think I'd let that happen when I could shoot you right here right now and get away?"

"S'pose not." Sherlock said, hoping John was on his way.

"Where's that other one?"

"Couldn't run much, he stopped half way." The man laughed manically.

"Bit pathetic, don't you think?"

"Maybe." Sherlock had no idea what was going to happen next. He had no idea if John was on his way or if he had called Lestrade or something, and he had no idea what was going on in this guy's mind; he was crazy.

"Tell ya what I'll do,"

"Go on."

"If you leave right now, let me get away and say no more 'bout it, I won't shoot. If ya would rather me shoot you and run away, then we'll do it that way. What do you want?" Sherlock thought about it. He wanted to catch this man; he had worked so hard on the case. However, he had no idea when John was going to get there. "Come on Mr Holmes... 5... 4..." Sherlock started to panic a little because there was still no sign of John. What the hell was he doing? "...3... 2... 1..." Sherlock knew what was coming next. He heard a loud bang. He closed his eyes tightly and fell to his knees. He then slowly fell onto his side while he clutched his stomach where blood was now pouring. The stranger laughed hard at him and then ran away. Sherlock lay on the floor, trying to stay awake. He managed to drag his body over to the wall and try to keep himself conscious just until somebody got there and was able to help him. The pain was getting too much though, he could hardly cope. He could feel his heart slowly getting weaker and weaker and he could feel his lungs losing the air that he so desperately needed.

John and Lestrade looked everywhere for Sherlock and the stranger. John had decided it was best to call Lestrade so they would be able to catch him. Eventually, John remembered the place Sherlock said he was likely to go. John and Lestrade hurriedly got there. They saw a figure sat by the wall. He was holding onto his stomach, his head was tilted onto his shoulder and he didn't seem to be making much movement. They didn't know who it was straight away because of the darkness, but as they both walked closer and closer, a face began to appear. Sherlock's face. John and Lestrade gasped in horror when they saw all the blood on Sherlock's hands. John quickly kneeled beside his friend to take his pulse. Lestrade called an ambulance. John knew Sherlock hadn't been like this for a long time, but long enough. He was definitely unconscious. John tried to cover the wound with Sherlock's scarf, but it was terrible. Sherlock's blood went all over John's hands as he tried to help his dying friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly. He woke to see the whiteness of the ceiling above him. There were bright lights near him which startled him as he'd only just woken up from quite a long sleep. He blinked several times to block out the insane light. He went to put his hand in front of his face but there were things coming from his hands and everything connected to him. He had no idea what was going on. He'd finally managed to get used to the crazy lighting in the mystery place when he started to hear several voices. Female and male. He couldn't really make out what anyone was saying. He tried to listen to a conversation to try and figure out where he was, but it was too noisy; there were many people talking. He could also hear machines beeping. Then he realised it; he was hooked up to a heart monitor. He was in hospital. He then began to remember the events of what he thought was earlier that evening, but he had actually been in this state for two days now.

Soon, Sherlock heard a familiar voice; John. John had been sat there with Sherlock the entire time. He could hardly get any sleep, but he was then convinced by a nurse that Sherlock would be alright if John just took a nap, nothing was going to happen; he was in a hospital after all. So, John decided he may as well get some sleep, he was exhausted. He eventually woke up after hearing Sherlock moan slightly. He jumped up and checked if everything was alright with his friend. "Sherlock, what is it?" Sherlock turned his head ever so slightly, trying not to move too much in case there was too much pain or something.

"Nothing... nothing..." John sighed a little in relief, then he gasped because he realised Sherlock was actually awake. He had finally woken up.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Uh... about... about ten minutes." Sherlock spoke softly, like a whisper. He was dosed up on so much morphine, he felt so weak, and he could barely talk let alone move. "What's... what's going on?" Sherlock asked before John could tell him how long he'd been lying there still.

"You got shot, do you remember?" Sherlock nodded slightly, still trying not to move so much. "Well, Lestrade called an ambulance and you were brought here. We thought it was too late; you'd lost so much blood. However, you're alright." Sherlock resisted the urge to state that this was an obvious fact because he couldn't be bothered to move his mouth a lot and he didn't want to be harsh because he knew John had been there for him.

"When... when did they bring me in?"

"Two days ago." Sherlock's eyes widened because he was shocked to think that he had been resting for that long. He thought it was the same night or something. "You have been waking up at points, though. You woke up yesterday, but only for about a second." Sherlock was quite astonished by this fact; he thought he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours, not two days.

"Did they... did they catch him?" John was surprised at Sherlock for asking this question when he was in serious pain, hooked up to so many machines and taking painkillers and he'd just been shot only last night. He just sighed and shook his head. He could see the slight anger in Sherlock's eyes. It was anger because he had shot him, it's the fact that they had that one shot to catch the mad man, but they lost it. Sherlock was disappointed.

"Why don't you get some more rest? The doctor said he's going to come in and check on you soon, so I'll wake you up when he gets here?" Sherlock wanted to protest; he'd already had too much rest for his liking. However, he was incredibly tired and he felt weak, all he wanted to do right now was sleep. So, he accepted John's offer and slowly fell back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who has favourited and followed this story :)**

* * *

The doctor soon arrived just to fill both John and Sherlock in on what was going on and to see how he was doing. "Are you experiencing any pain, do you need more pain relief?" Sherlock wasn't really in the mood for questions right now; he was tired, even though he'd had plenty of sleep. He sort of moaned, which didn't really answer the doctor's questions. John made him cooperate though.

"No..." Sherlock groaned as he tried to get more sleep, completely ignoring the doctor. John could see that this man was tired of Sherlock's attitude, so he answered most of the questions. The doctor smiled to John and sort of pulled a face to Sherlock as he left the room. Sherlock didn't care though; all he wanted was sleep right now. However, John looked out of the room's window and saw a familiar character; Mycroft. He wondered what he was doing there seeing as he hardly ever bothered to speak to his brother unless it was about a case of some sorts. He also saw a nurse pointing in Sherlock's direction to Mycroft. He didn't want to tell Sherlock because he didn't want to hear a lecture from Sherlock about the fact that he hates his brother. John didn't understand why he hated his brother though. His brother had helped him when he jumped from the roof of St Bart's. He helped him fake his suicide and get rid of Moriarty. Plus, if anyone should be angry with Mycroft, it was going to be John because he was still slightly angry that Mycroft never bothered to tell John about Sherlock still being alive. However, he didn't really see the point on dwelling on the past, so he left it.

Mycroft knocked on the door that was ajar. Sherlock opened his eyes slowly to see Mycroft at the door. He didn't invite him in, but Mycroft allowed himself in anyway. He smiled to both his brother and John. John didn't know whether they both wanted to talk alone or something. He felt that it was right to give them both privacy seeing as they were family and Mycroft is concerned about his brother. However, the last time they were alone they planned Sherlock's fake suicide, so John didn't know what to do. "John, would you mind giving me and my brother a little privacy?" Mycroft asked. Well, he was hardly asking; it was more of an order as John didn't really have a choice to stay or not. So, he sighed, arose from his chair and left. He stood close to the slightly open door so he could eavesdrop. Not to be rude, just to make sure they weren't making up anything or whatever. "Was it him?" John heard Mycroft ask Sherlock. He didn't quite hear Sherlock's response though. He wondered if he had even responded. "Sherlock, was it him?" Sherlock didn't seem to be paying the slightest bit of attention to what Mycroft was saying. John was a bit curious to whom 'he' was. Did he know about the case? He wondered why Mycroft was so bothered about who it was; his brother had just been shot and all he could ask was 'was it him'. Seemed a little strange.

After a few minutes of Mycroft getting absolutely nowhere with Sherlock, John thought he should go back in. He felt that maybe Sherlock was uncomfortable with the questions being asked and if he went in the questions would stop. He walked in and sat down. Mycroft didn't object to this; he was too busy interrogating Sherlock by this point. Sherlock had his back faced at Mycroft, but Mycroft wasn't going to give in. He also saw John's arrival as a good thing; maybe Sherlock would trust John enough to answer the questions. John then decided he may as well just ask who 'he' was. "Who's 'he'?" John asked a slight puzzled expression on his face. Mycroft turned to face him.

"He is the man who shot my brother." Mycroft said. John didn't believe this was the only thing that Mycroft knew about this man; there must be something more to it than this.

"Yes, but whom else is he?" Mycroft opened his mouth to reply when Sherlock suddenly turned around.

"He is none of your concern right now." Sherlock huffed. John could tell he was uncomfortable talking about this, but he didn't understand why. What did Sherlock and Mycroft know of this man? Who the hell was he? Did they know him personally? Who?

Mycroft sighed and turned to his brother who had once again turned around. "Sherlock, you can't keep this hidden. You know you shouldn't have gone after him. It was stupid and idiotic, considering the past." Sherlock turned to stop Mycroft from speaking. He didn't want Mycroft to reveal what had happened a long time ago. He wanted that part of his life to stay hidden. He didn't want anyone to know. Not even John. He stopped Mycroft from saying another word before asking John to leave the room once again. John didn't protest because he could see that this was something serious now. He didn't have any clue what it was, but he was quite curious. He heard Sherlock telling Mycroft that he shouldn't have said anything about it. "You shouldn't have said that. Why would you bring that all up again?"

"Sherlock, you have to face it someday. And you know this all happened because of that. Because of them." Sherlock scowled at Mycroft.

"Don't you ever mention them again. Not a single word about them. That's all in the past. I went on a case and he happened to be the murderer."

"Yes, but you wouldn't have been this determined to get him if the past hadn't been what it was." Sherlock didn't know how he was going to get his brother to shut up about this. He didn't want anybody to find out about it. Any of it. He turned around once again and decided it was best to just completely ignore Mycroft. However, Mycroft knew what he was trying to do, and it wasn't going to work. "They wouldn't have wanted this, Sherlock. You've been shot because of it. You need to stop this, please."

"You don't know anything about what they wanted. You don't know." Sherlock closed his eyes tightly and tried to imagine that Mycroft wasn't there. Mycroft could see there was no getting through to his brother, so he picked up his coat and left. Before leaving the room he told Sherlock to think about what he'd said, but Sherlock ignored him.

Mycroft went to John straight after he'd left Sherlock. "John, you must keep an eye on him. You need to make sure he doesn't go after this man. He's trouble. Sherlock could get into serious danger. I am trusting you." John wanted to agree to this, but he felt that he needed to know what had actually happened and who they were talking about when they said 'them' or 'they' or 'him'. John didn't understand. He asked Mycroft but Mycroft told him it was up to his brother to tell him which was ridiculous because Sherlock wasn't going to tell John anything. However, he agreed to keep an eye on his brother and they left it at that. Mycroft asked him to keep him informed and tell him when they are leaving and he will send them a car. John shook his hand and went back to Sherlock's room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed this story :)**

* * *

John went in to find Sherlock just lying in the bed with his eyes not closed, but it didn't seem as if Sherlock was in the real world right now. John just walked in and sat down; Sherlock didn't glance at him once. He just stayed staring out of the window of the room at the life outside of it. John wanted to know what he was thinking about; he wanted to know what had happened in the past and why it had affected Sherlock so much. However, he knew asking Sherlock would be completely pointless and idiotic because Sherlock wouldn't give him a straight answer, neither would he be pleased to the fact that John was asking him about this. "John, are you going to try and figure out what's wrong with me all day or were you planning on taking a break?" Sherlock didn't turn to face John, he still stayed stationary. John sighed.

"Well, I might go and get some lunch in a bit." John carried on as if it was a joke to maybe get himself off the hook. "Maybe if you just told me..." John realised he'd made a stupid mistake. His words slowly became mumbles but Sherlock was still able to make them out.

"What?" Sherlock turned around, shocked at John's complete idiocy and questioning. "I'm not going to tell you what happened. It's not your business. I know Mycroft's probably told you to 'keep an eye on me' but honestly, I am fine." Unfortunately, Sherlock's sudden defensiveness and the huff that came after didn't convince John that he was 'fine'. He didn't understand what could have happened to this man to make him like this though. He thought of Sherlock as this man without a heart, the man who doesn't care about anything or anyone. Clearly his thoughts about him were wrong.

Later on, after a long silence, John decided it was best to leave the room for a while. Plus he wanted lunch because he was absolutely starving. He told Sherlock where he was going, thinking maybe Sherlock would ask him to get him something or just put what had happened before behind him. Unfortunately, Sherlock wasn't like that. He was offended by John's prying and wasn't going to give in to John's plea for forgiveness as easily as John had hoped.

As John went to the small cafe in the hospital, he bumped into Lestrade. "Oh, John, hi. How's Sherlock?" Lestrade asked with a coffee in his hand. John was surprised to see him; he gathered he must be going to visit Sherlock, but he didn't think that he would.

"He's alright, I guess. Are you going up to see him now?" Lestrade nodded.

"Yeah, why aren't you with him?"

"I just came down to get some lunch." Lestrade just nodded and smiled.

"Well, I'll probably see you up there in a bit." John nodded and let Lestrade go up the stairs while he continued to the cafe.

Soon, John went back up to Sherlock's room. Nothing much had changed; Sherlock was staring out the window, and somebody was trying to talk to him but wasn't really getting through to him. Lestrade didn't understand what was wrong with Sherlock either. "I'm surprised you're still alive, if John and I hadn't got there when we did I don't know what would have happened." Lestrade said, not really knowing where he was going with that conversation. Sherlock just moaned at him. He didn't want him there; he just wanted to be alone for a while. He wanted to be with his thoughts and nothing else because it's them that were keeping him sane.

Lestrade eventually left after he finally got the message that Sherlock didn't want him there. John told him that something strange was going on and he shouldn't really be bothered. Lestrade had told John that Sherlock had asked about the man and whether he had been caught or not. "He seemed to be a lot more interested in this case than the normal ones and that's saying something. Something's obviously going on." John knew this, but he didn't know what exactly _was _going on.

John tried to talk to Sherlock once again, but Sherlock still wasn't interested in anyone. John didn't understand him right now. He'd just been shot and all he can do is ignore people. Normal people would want to talk to their family or friends, because that sort of thing is life changing. He could have died, but he didn't even care. John thought about bringing up the fact that Sherlock had been asking Lestrade about the stranger again, but he realised that Sherlock would hate him even more and that wouldn't get him anywhere.


	5. Chapter 5

Lestrade soon left and John and Sherlock were once again left in the room alone. Sherlock was bored of staring out the window so he had decided to instead stare at the white ceiling above him. It was so simple which was just what his mind needed right now; nothing he was able to deduce, just a ceiling. When he looked outside the window he saw human lives; he could deduce every single one of them. However, he was still tired a little and couldn't be bothered with anymore right now, so the ceiling was his best option. He just stared up at the blank ceiling and thought about the past. It made him shiver and he hated it. He tried to erase it from his mind ages ago, and it had worked until something happened which brought it all back. John wanted to know what had happened and why the man had somehow reminded Sherlock of it all, but Sherlock wasn't going to give John an answer; it was bad enough Mycroft knew, he didn't want people to know about this. Sherlock closed his eyes slowly. "How long am I going to stay here? I've been here enough; I need to be at home, doing my work. I'm perfectly fine now." Sherlock groaned. John sighed in annoyance.

"Sherlock, you've been shot and you may feel fine but you're not perfectly fine. Firstly, you lost quite a lot of blood. Secondly, you've been sleeping an awful lot so clearly something is right. And finally, you've been shot, so you can't do your work as soon as you get home. You'll still need plenty of rest and it'll be a couple of days before you start working again." Sherlock was annoyed by this. He didn't need rest.

"Please, will you just ask them when I am allowed to leave?" John was about to protest but he knew he may as well just do it because they would only have an argument and then he would eventually go so he may as well skip the argument and get straight to the doing what Sherlock asks because you don't want to argue with him. So, he got up from his seat and went to speak to the doctor.

John came back with a smile on his face. Sherlock didn't bother to look away from the uninteresting ceiling so John just sat back down. "Yes?" Sherlock asked.

"They said they want to keep an eye on you today but you'll probably be able to go back to the flat tomorrow or maybe the day after." Sherlock found this as good news. Not the best because he wanted to be home right then, but this was alright.

"Thank you." Sherlock said to John. John smiled slightly and just sat there. He picked up a newspaper and started to read while Sherlock closed his eyes once more and fell asleep.

Sherlock could hear him again. All that was there was darkness, but he could hear him. Laughing at Sherlock. He was hiding and Sherlock couldn't see him. He tried to look from the darkness, but he couldn't escape it. He searched and searched but the man just kept laughing. Sherlock could then hear John calling for him. He managed to find John and told him about the voice. John looked confused. "Can't you hear it?" Sherlock asked. John's face looked puzzled and confused.

"What?" He asked. Sherlock looked up for the man projecting the voice but nothing. John thought he was going crazy. He needed to catch this man. He needed to sort things out. He needed to put a rest to everything that had once been. He needed to calm down. His head was racing with all these thoughts that he couldn't cope. He started to pant and shake. His heart racing. He could hear John's voice again. Just saying his name. He felt someone shaking him. He didn't understand what was going on. He heard the man's laughter and John calling his name. His heart was pounding against his chest like it was going to escape at any moment. "Sherlock?!" John shouted. Sherlock opened his eyes quickly. He grabbed a hold of John's arm. John was stood over him with his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. He had been the one shaking him; trying to wake him up. "It's alright, it's fine." John said as he slowly removed Sherlock's hand from his arm. "It's all fine." John said comfortingly. Sherlock blinked several times and scanned the room. He realised everything was all just a nightmare. Hew sighed and slowly took deep breaths in and out to calm himself down. His heart rate lowered to what it should be and he eventually was able to relax. John tried to figure out what had just happened. He figured that Sherlock had had a bad dream, but this was odd. Sherlock never had bad dreams. He was never scared of anything. What was wrong with him? Sherlock knew John was probably curious, but he wasn't going to tell him anything. He just lay back against his pillow and sighed with relief. He decided it was best not to get anymore sleep just yet in case anything happened again. John sat awake with him just to make sure he was safe.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Sherlock and John didn't really do anything. Obviously Sherlock was hardly able to do anything, but they had had no sleep whatsoever and they were extremely tired. John yawned and stretched as he tried to keep his eyes open. Sherlock concentrated on the ceiling once again. He kept nearly falling asleep but he was scared that he would drift off and have another nightmare, so he kept himself awake. "Want to talk about what happened last night?" John asked, yawning a little. Sherlock groaned.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the answer to that is a no." John sighed. He knew that was going to be the answer, but he needed a proper one. He was sick of sitting in the dark about all of this; he needed more information. If he was going to be the one looking after this man then he wanted at least a small bit of help to do so. Sherlock wasn't helping, and Mycroft hadn't even called to see how his brother was doing since he last saw him.

"Sherlock, just tell me something. I want to help." Sherlock turned to John slowly.

"You want to help me? How could you possibly help me? I'm not in need of any help." Sherlock decided it was best to just deny it all, even though he knew that wasn't really going to work after recent events.

"Clearly you do. What happened last night, it wasn't normal. Not for you anyway. Just tell me something. What was it about?" Sherlock sighed. He closed his eyes but still kept his face towards John.

"It wasn't... it was just a voice. That's all." Sherlock sighed, as did John. This didn't really help John figure out anything.

"Man's or a woman's?"

"A man's. However, there was... a woman's voice in the background of his. I could hardly hear it though because the man's was so loud." Sherlock looked like he was back into his dream again. He was getting so angry with it and started to shake.

"Sherlock?"

"It... it was horrible. I didn't know what... what was happening. I... I..." Sherlock began to relive the dream and he was starting to feel how he felt the night before. He was shaking and his words began to grow louder and louder as he said them and it sounded as if he was about to scream. John quickly helped him and shook him once again to wake him up. Sherlock opened his eyes quickly and looked to John. John's eyes had a reassuring look in them so Sherlock knew he was safe.

"Alright?" John asked, sitting back down. He tried to smile, but he was quite worried about what was happening to Sherlock. Sherlock just smiled and nodded nervously. "You don't have to tell me anymore." Sherlock just nodded and turned back to the ceiling.

John later decided it was best to call Mycroft. Maybe he had at least some answers about the dream. "John? What do you want?"

"It's about Sherlock. He's been having nightmares..."

"I see. What sort of nightmares?"

"I don't really know... he said there was a man's voice and a woman's. However, he couldn't hear the woman properly over the man." John could hear Mycroft's sigh in despair through the phone. "Will you please tell me something?"

"John... John, there are things you don't know about my brother. Things maybe you don't need to know and things you shouldn't. I know who the man is, and maybe you've figured out who that man is too?"

"The one who shot him?" John asked after a long pause.

"Obviously. He knows him well. Too well. You must make sure Sherlock doesn't try and meet this man again. It's dangerous. I know it will be hard because you don't know why I am asking you, but trust me, you don't want to know why. And I believe Sherlock wouldn't want you to know either."

"But I need to know something. Who was the woman's voice? Do you have an idea?"

"I do. She knew both me and Sherlock. That's as much as I can tell you, it's up to Sherlock to tell you the rest. Please, just make sure he's safe." John could hear the plea in Mycroft's voice. He was genuinely concerned about his brother, and he honestly did want to tell John more. John knew that he wasn't going to get any more information, even if he begged, so he agreed to look after Sherlock and hung up.

When he went back to Sherlock, the doctor was also in the room with him. He was just explaining a few things and telling Sherlock about the pills he was going to give him. "You're being discharged today. We'll keep an eye on you for a little longer, but soon you'll be free to do whatever you wish. And you'll be out of my hair." The doctor said in annoyance because Sherlock had been a pain ever since he got there. Sherlock didn't bother to insult back which stuck John as odd, but he didn't say anything in front of the doctor. The doctor smiled to John and smiled at Sherlock because he was happy to be finally rid of him. Well, nearly finally rid of him. John just sat back down. "That's good news, isn't it?" Sherlock shrugged. However, this wasn't good for him. He didn't want to leave just yet. He didn't want to go back to the reality of everything. He had been considering telling John everything right then, but he couldn't. He didn't want John to know about his past. He was scared about a lot of things. He didn't know what he was going to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock was soon able to leave the hospital. John thought Sherlock was happy to be leaving because it was such a dull place and noisy. However, Sherlock felt safe in there. He knew that once he stepped outside of that building reality was going to hit him in the face hard. He didn't want to explain this to John though, so he had to act as if he was happy to see the back of that place. He was in a way because the pain killers were making him incredibly tired all the time and he needed to be busy.

When they got outside they saw a car waiting for them. Sherlock sighed knowing this was Mycroft's doing, but he willingly got into the car. John placed all the things he had taken to the hospital in the boot and then entered the car. Neither of them spoke to each other the journey home. John was wanting to ask questions about everything, but felt it was inappropriate at this time. Sherlock was dreading going back home because of the reality.

They got to 221B, finally. Sherlock didn't leave the car straight away. He closed his eyes for a moment, lay his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. John didn't understand what he was doing, but he didn't question it. He just went to get the things from the boot. "Sherlock, are you coming?" he called after closing the door to the boot. Sherlock quickly opened his eyes and just nodded. He then exited the car and made his way to the flat.

As they started to walk up the stairs, Sherlock started to get a small pain where he had been shot. He also began to feel light headed and sick. Some of these feelings were because he was scared, but most because of the pain. Sherlock stopped for a moment and placed one hand on the banister, and one on the wall. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and took deep breaths in and out. When John reached the top of the stairs, he turned back and only then did he notice that Sherlock was in pain. He quickly placed his and Sherlock's belongings in the flat and then went back to help Sherlock. He placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and the other on Sherlock's hand that was touching the banister. "Sherlock, are you feeling alright?" Sherlock clenched his jaw and tried his best to nod, even though it was quite clearly he was in a lot of pain. "I'll help you." Sherlock would normally push John away if he offered to help him climb some stairs, but he was in severe pain and he did need John's assistance. So, John slowly and carefully helped Sherlock up the stairs and into the flat. Sherlock then threw himself down onto the sofa and lay down. "Do you want some of the medication now? Get rid of the pain?" Sherlock shrugged. Lying down helped the pain slightly, but the pills would do a lot more. So, John rummaged through the bags of things and found the medication. He made Sherlock a tall glass of water and passed it to him with one pill. Sherlock groaned a slight 'thank you' which John just smiled to. He then sat himself down on one of the arm chairs and picked up a newspaper while Sherlock lay on the sofa for the rest of the day.

Mycroft came round in the evening to see how his brother was doing. Still lying on the sofa, hardly making a move. John had tried to get him to eat something, but Sherlock insisted he wasn't hungry. Mycroft grabbed the chair from the desk and placed it in front of the sofa, so he could talk to Sherlock. Sherlock didn't bother to turn to face him which annoyed Mycroft quite a bit, but this was normal behaviour for Sherlock. "Sherlock, how are you feeling?" Sherlock shrugged, this seemed to be the only way he could communicate that day. "Any pain? Vomiting? That sort of thing?" Sherlock shook his head. John wanted to interrupt and tell Mycroft Sherlock was lying and that he had been in a lot of pain and that caused him to fail climbing the stairs. However, he felt that may embarrass Sherlock and it wasn't really important that Mycroft knew about something that wasn't life changing. Mycroft sighed in distress as he could not communicate with his brother. "You know that you can't... you can't look for him." Mycroft said, changing the subject. "It will kill you. Or he will. This is serious. What happened in the past happened, and it can't be erased if you catch him. You'll end up torturing yourself. This isn't good for you." Mycroft begged his brother, which was a rare thing for him to do. Sherlock didn't respond straight away, he just listened to everything Mycroft had said and let his mind process it all.

"It can. I will do this for them. I owe this to them."

"No you don't. They wouldn't want you to do this, I swear to you. This will drive you insane." They both acted as if John wasn't there anymore, which was good because John was able to listen to the information. He was still curious to who 'they' were though and how they knew the murderer.

"I don't care. Days without them drove me insane. He did this to me. I will do the same back." Mycroft sighed so many times because he clearly wasn't getting through to Sherlock.

"He's a dangerous man. He'll stop at nothing to kill you."

"Sounds a bit like me then. I guess we're made for each other." Sherlock said bitterly.

"Sherlock, swear to me you will not track him down. I don't want what happened to them to happen to you, too. Please. Don't do it." Sherlock turned to Mycroft. John was slightly shocked because he realised 'they' had been killed. But who were 'they' and what connection did they have with Sherlock?

"Mycroft, I swore to them that I would keep them both safe. And I didn't. This is my fault and I have to fix this, I have to put things right."

"Trust me, they don't want this!" Sherlock didn't reply. He just turned back to the ceiling and completely ignored Mycroft. Mycroft looked at his brother in desperation, but he knew he would never get Sherlock to agree to anything. So, he stood up from his seat and placed the chair back under the desk. He said goodbye to John and then left.

John ran after Mycroft before he had a chance to go far. "Mycroft!" Mycroft halted and turned back to see John.

"What is it?"

"Mycroft," John took a pause to catch his breath after the running he'd done "I think you need to tell me what's going on." Mycroft sighed. He knew he had no choice now. He had failed to stop Sherlock from going after this man, so John was now his only hope.

"Come with me." He started walking straight on and John accompanied him. As they walked Mycroft explained everything to John. Who 'they' were and what had happened to them. John was shocked and scared at the same time. He didn't know how he could help Sherlock cope because of this. He realised he had got everything completely wrong. "Please, make sure my brother doesn't go after him."

"I'll try my best." John said. He shook Mycroft's hand and then went back to the flat.


	8. Chapter 8

When John entered the flat he noticed that Sherlock wasn't where he had been. He looked in the living room but there was no sign. He then checked the small kitchen, but there was no one there. So, he checked his bedroom. Sherlock was lying on his bed, his back facing the door and his whole body underneath the blanket. John assumed he was asleep, so he sighed and was about to leave when he heard Sherlock mutter something. "What did you say?" John asked as he entered the room again. Sherlock didn't turn around, and John stood in the doorway waiting for a response.

"Mycroft. I'm guessing he told you?" John didn't know whether to tell Sherlock the truth or not. He knew that Sherlock would probably be able to guess if he was lying or not, but he didn't know if Sherlock would be angry and maybe ignore him completely too. "Of course he did." Sherlock sighed.

"Yeah. I'm not going to tell anybody Sherlock."

"That's not what I was worried about."

"What is it then? I don't really understand. What is it that you didn't want me to know? Was it the fact that you had a wife? Or was it what happened to her?" Sherlock tuned him out. He didn't want to hear about it, he'd heard too much already. He couldn't relive it all again, he didn't want to. He knew this time he wouldn't be able to cope, he had only just managed to stop himself from doing anything stupid last time, and now it was happening all over again. John wasn't helping at all. He kept talking and Sherlock hated every word that came from his mouth.

"Just shut up!" Sherlock shouted at John as he turned to face him. His face was full of anger and hatred. John jumped a little and his eyes widened with surprise. He quickly shut up and stayed silent. He stared at Sherlock who stared straight back for a moment. Sherlock huffed and then turned back to face the wall. He closed his eyes tightly to try and forget everything and to drown out all of the memories. John stood silent just watching his friend. He'd never seen him like this. Now he understood all of those times Sherlock had seemed so heartless; it was because he used to love someone. He belonged with someone. But, something horrible happened to them and his heart had left with them. This is why he had become so unsentimental. Because once he was _too _sentimental.

"I'm sorry." John said slowly and quietly as he coughed and walked from the room. Sherlock lay on his bed, his eyes shut tight. A single tear appeared in the corner of his right eye and it streamed down his face as he remembered everything.

John sat in the living room. He was trying to think of how he was going to help Sherlock. How would he help Sherlock? He'd never really been in this situation. Only when Sherlock had died, but that was different. Yes, Sherlock was like family to John, but he came back. John didn't know what to say to Sherlock at all. Mycroft had told John that when they died, Sherlock had been blaming himself for everything. He said it was because he was meant to solve a case, but he was too slow. He was slow because he had a wife. This and her death were the reasons why he never had a relationship since.

Sherlock appeared early the next morning. John had been sat in the living room all night trying to figure out how to help Sherlock. Sherlock walked gloomily into the living room and plonked himself down onto the armchair opposite to where John was sitting. "I really am sorry for what I said yesterday. It was stupid." John apologised. For once it seemed as if the two men had switched places because John had said something completely stupid even though he knew Sherlock would be upset, and Sherlock was being incredibly sentimental. Sherlock just nodded.

"What did my brother tell you?" John didn't know whether this was the right thing to be talking about right now, but Sherlock had asked and John felt obliged to speak.

"He just said that you were married. He said that you blame yourself for her deaths because you were too slow with the case."

"Right... right..."

"Did you..." John considered the question he was about to ask and whether he should or not. He felt that he should because maybe it could help him try and help Sherlock. "Did you get there in time or was she... was she..."

"I got there too late." Sherlock began to sniffle a little. "She wasn't... she wasn't... I tried to get her back... I tried..." Sherlock couldn't say another word.

"Stop, I'm sorry for asking." John got up and comforted his friend. Sherlock coughed hard and sniffed. He blinked and rubbed the few tears from his face.

"I can't do this again." He said, pulling himself together. John looked at him, his eyes full of sorrow and despair.

"You'll get through this." Sherlock nodded and calmed himself down. John sat back down and tried to change the subject.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone following and those who have reviewed and favourited. I will be continuing the story :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**The text that's italic is a flashback **

* * *

Sherlock went into his bedroom. He looked at the side of his bed Rachel once slept. He remembered all those mornings he would wake up next to her. All those mornings he would just lay there watching her sleep. He remembered the last morning he spent with her and how he missed the mornings so.

* * *

_Sherlock woke early in the morning. He lay in bed for a while, just staring at her sleeping. He smiled to himself and then slowly and quietly got out of bed. He wrapped the blanket round her so she wouldn't get cold and he left to the kitchen. He got the milk from the fridge and two mugs out from the cupboard. "Sherlock?" he heard a call from his bedroom. Such a sweet voice it was. He smiled and stopped what he was doing. He walked to the bedroom and she lay there, just looking at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes were tired but to him she looked as radiant as she always did. _

"_Breakfast." he smiled. _

"_I hope it's not like the last one you made." She joked. Sherlock pretended to look offended. _

_ They both sat at the table ate the breakfast Sherlock had prepared. Then, Rachel's phone began to ring. She looked at Sherlock with an apologetic expression because her phone rang a lot, but he didn't mind. "What? But today's my day off." She said, Sherlock's face sank. "Are you sure there's no one else? Right. Right." She hung up the phone and looked at Sherlock. "They need me at work. Is it alright?" Obviously Sherlock was annoyed because they were both always working and they wanted a break, but he let her go. "You'll have time to figure out that case." Sherlock was still disappointed. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." _

"_It's fine, honestly." Sherlock smiled as he kissed her. She walked to the door and opened it. _

"_Maybe we could go somewhere for dinner?" She smiled to Sherlock. _

"_Is my food not good enough?" he joked._

"_Well..." _

"_I'll see about a restaurant." Sherlock said before Rachel had time to joke about his cooking. "Now go." Rachel smiled and went to work._

* * *

"Sherlock?" he heard John shout from the living room. He went in there and looked around. He was started to remember everything, which he didn't want to do.

* * *

_Sherlock sat at his desk, studying notes for a recent case. He heard his phone ringing, so he moved every piece of paper from his desk to find it. "Hello?" he asked. _

"_Sherlock, it's me." Sherlock smiled at the sound of her voice._

"_How's work?" _

"_It's hard. There's so much. I don't know what time I'll be able to get home. It'll probably be late. I don't know if I'll be able to do that dinner." She sighed._

"_We will, I don't care if you come home late. I will cook if we can't get to a restaurant." _

"_Or we could order a pizza?" _

"_Or we could order a pizza." Rachel laughed slightly._

"_I'll try to get home soon. I love you." _

"_I love you, too." Sherlock hung up and then started picking up the paper he had thrown after looking for his phone._

* * *

John walked over to Sherlock and waved his hand in front of his face. "Earth to Sherlock. Sherlock?" Sherlock blinked quickly and realised he had just been stood there remembering.

"Oh sorry, sorry. Just daydreaming." Sherlock laughed nervously. John looked confused.

"Anyway, Lestrade called. He asked if you were alright."

"Right, right." Said Sherlock, sitting in his armchair.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?" Sherlock didn't answer; he just kept clicking his fingers nervously. "Sherlock? I asked if you were alright?"

"No! No, John I'm not." He placed his feet on the chair and wrapped his arms around them.

"Maybe you should calm down." John tried to stay calm even though he didn't know why Sherlock was like this all of a sudden. "Sherlock, calm down." Sherlock couldn't calm down. He jumped from his seat and grabbed his coat and his scarf. "What are you doing?"

"I need some air!" Sherlock shouted as he ran out of the door.

He walked out of the door and looked at the street.

* * *

_Sherlock walked down the road and shouted a cab over. He had two cups of coffee in his hands and was careful not to drop them. He quickly got out of the cab when he reached his destination; he paid the driver and ran to the building door. There were several buttons you had to press to get in, so he had to try hard not to drop the drinks. "Hello, is Mrs Holmes there please?" Sherlock asked the woman on the other end of the buzzer. _

"_Sherlock, is that you?" Rachel asked, surprised. _

"_Yes." _

"_What are you doing here?" _

"_I brought you coffee. Now, please could you let me in because they are pretty hot." _

"_Oh, yeah, yeah." Rachel said while buzzing him in. He quickly ran to her office with the boiling hot coffees. _

"_Sherlock, you can't just come here. I'm working." _

"_I know, that's why I brought you coffee." Sherlock joked. Rachel tried to act serious, but Sherlock made it hard. _

"_Thank you. But you have to go, if my boss catches you..." _

"_Alright, alright." Sherlock placed the coffee on her desk and kissed her. _

"_I'll see you tonight. And please don't do this again." Rachel asked jokingly. Sherlock waved and left quickly. Rachel was happy that Sherlock had gone to see her, even if it was just for a minute._

* * *

Sherlock blinked hard and ran down the street into an alleyway. There he sat at the end of it and just breathed heavily. He couldn't cope. He missed her so much. He stood up and inhaled all the cold air he could. He then started walking. Where? He didn't know. He just had to get away from everything. He couldn't take it.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock heard his phone ring. John. He didn't bother to answer it. He was too busy drinking his troubles away in a bar God knows where. His phone rang once again. Why wouldn't John get the message he didn't want to talk? Now everyone was calling; Molly, Mycroft, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. Sherlock sighed and then took another big gulp of the drink he had in front of him. The bartender was also watching him. Sherlock had drunk so much. Too much. "Another... please." Sherlock struggled to speak because of the amount he'd had. The bartender refused to serve him. "I asked... for a... another."

"I'm not serving you anymore." The bartender said. Sherlock didn't do anything. He just decided to leave. He could hardly walk properly though. He just about managed to walk out of the bar. He then started to get pains where he'd been shot. He tried to calm down and stop the pain, but he couldn't. He fell over as he stepped out of the door. He tried to get up, but eventually gave up. He then slowly closed his eyes and passed out.

Both John and Mycroft had been called by the hospital informing them that Sherlock had passed out. He was allowed to go back home after a few tests though, everything seemed to be alright. As Sherlock got into the car, Mycroft took John aside. "John,"

"I did try."

"I know, but I think he needs more help. Professional help."

"A therapist? Are you talking about a therapist? For Sherlock Holmes? Well I'd like to see you get him agree to that." John scoffed, but Mycroft was serious.

"John, he doesn't have a choice now. You saw the state he was in. This is serious." John stopped.

"Yeah, but how are we going to get him to go to a therapist?" Mycroft looked bewildered.

"We'll have to try and figure that out. I know someone though. I'll give them a call." John walked back to the car, still finding the whole therapist situation a little ridiculous because it was Sherlock. "We all have demons, John. These are his." Mycroft shouted while directing his head to Sherlock who was sat in the taxi. John sighed and then continued to walk to the car.

Sherlock sat in the living room for a few minutes. He just scanned the room. He watched as Mrs Hudson took the dishes from the table that John had left. She tried to avoid saying anything to Sherlock, but she did feel incredibly sorry for him. She soon left. John went to go and speak to her, leaving Sherlock sat in the living room.

* * *

_It was about nine O'clock at night. Sherlock was looking at his watch, wondering where Rachel was. She hadn't called him since she had after lunch when she'd called to thank him again for the coffee. He called her, but it was just the answering machine. He tried once more but nothing. He didn't know whether to get worried or not. Maybe she still had work and she couldn't get to the phone? Sherlock was worried maybe she was having an affair. He didn't want to believe that though, because he loved Rachel and he believed that she loved him the same. He decided to go out and see if she'd maybe gone to pick up some food. He accidently left his phone on his desk._

* * *

John came back in and saw Sherlock staring into space once again. He realised what might be going on in Sherlock's face, as it happened to him when Sherlock faked his suicide. "Don't do it to yourself, Sherlock." John knew this was stupid advice because no matter who tells you and how many times they say it, it's not that easy. Sherlock didn't bother to answer; he just went to his bedroom and threw himself into bed. He couldn't handle coming out. He decided that to sleep was the best option. John didn't argue with him. He was disappointed that this man that he once thought was 'invincible' in a way, was now trying to fight his demons. And he was giving up. John was scared because he had looked up to this man and this man couldn't do this anymore, and he needed John. However, John also knew that this could work in his favour; maybe Sherlock would listen to him about going to see a therapist.

Sherlock heard her once again. Her sweet voice just calling out to him. He was still in the dark though. He called out to her asking where she was, but she just kept shouting his name. "Tell me where you are, please." He shouted. Then, he heard his laughter again. The murderer's laugh that made Sherlock die inside a thousand times. This was the one person who could frighten Sherlock even when not being near him. He tried to concentrate on Rachel's calling, but the man's laughter got louder and louder. Sherlock was in the middle of darkness spinning around, holding his head to try and stop the laughter and everything. John ran into Sherlock's room after hearing him speaking. He shook Sherlock hard and Sherlock eventually woke up.

"It's alright, Sherlock. It's alright." Sherlock opened his eyes wide. He sat up quickly and then tried to slow his breathing. "Everything's fine." John comforted his friend as best he could.

John went back into Sherlock's bedroom with a drink for him. He placed it down on the bedside table and Sherlock managed to get a quiet thank you out of him. "Sherlock, this is insane." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, I am serious. This isn't normal. This could kill you. Please, just listen to me." Sherlock looked at John; John didn't take his eyes from Sherlock once because he wanted Sherlock to know he was there for him and that he _was _going to help him through this. "Now, I think that you need help. I want to help you, I do. But, I don't have the professional training that others do."

"Therapist?"

"Yes." John said. Then, he got the reaction he wasn't expecting.

"Alright."

"Now, all I'm saying is- wait, what?"

"I said alright. I can't take this, John. I'm braking down. It's driving me insane."

"Right. Right. Well, your brother has got in touch with someone."

"Probably the last one I had." Sherlock didn't realise that he said that out loud.

"The last one?"

"Oh, Mycroft didn't say?"

"Uh, no?"

"I was like this when... when I first found out... about her. I refused to... to see someone, but Mycroft forced me."

"Did you actually tell him anything?"

"I told him little. But we'll probably pick up from where we left off." Sherlock tried to see the bright side of this situation because he was scared. He was scared of what could happen to him if he didn't speak to someone. He was so afraid and he needed sleep but he couldn't get any of that because of everything either. Something horrible was happening to him and he wanted it to stop.


	11. Chapter 11

**Please can you leave a review from chapter 9-this one because I just wrote them and I don't know if I did them well or what? Please review and tell me what they're like :) thanks **

* * *

"_Ah, Sherlock. You feel like telling me something today?" The therapist smiled at him. Sherlock was doing what he does best, being an arrogant sod. "Listen, all I want to do is help you. I swear. I want to help stop everything that's going on so you can get back to being you."_

"_I don't know what to tell you. I feel horrible. I can't do anything right anymore. I miss her. I hate myself. It was my fault. So, I don't want you to help me. This was my fault in the first place. She suffered because of me, so I will suffer for it too." The therapist didn't know how to reason with Sherlock. Anyone else and he would be able to figure it out, but Sherlock wasn't like them. Once he was determined to do something, he wouldn't give up. _

"_I will help you because it wasn't your fault. Why do you believe it was?" This left Sherlock speechless. He didn't want to explain why. He didn't want to go through his mistakes once again. So, he just left. Just got up and walked out of the door. He ran away and that's when he started the drugs again. He eventually gave them up after managing to figure out how to move all of these memories to a place in his head he never had to go to. That's when he became the unemotional, unsentimental robot that he was when he first met John._

* * *

"Mycroft called, he said that Mr Banks has agreed to take you back on. Your appointment is in an hour." Sherlock was annoyed that his appointment was so soon. John knew it was probably so Sherlock couldn't change his mind.

They set off straight after Sherlock got ready. Mr Banks was stood at the door waiting for him. He greeted them both and showed them in. John sat in the waiting room and Sherlock accompanied Mr Banks into his office. "So, Sherlock how are we?"

"I'm terrible, why do you think I'm here? Social visit?"

"I see your sarcasm is still intact."

"Obviously." There was a silence for a moment while Mr Banks just stared at Sherlock. What was going through his head? Why was he acting so sarcastic and rude when he was in desperate need for some help.

"Why have you come back if you just want to be sarcastic?"

"I need help. People come to you if they need help, don't they?"

"Yes, but you managed to sort yourself out after a couple of years. So, what brought you back?"

"I was shot."

"And?"

"By the murderer of my wife."

"Didn't they catch him?"

"They did. Now they have caught him again. But that doesn't mean I'm going to be happy. It's not really justice. I don't think so, anyway."

"Alright. Anyway, how about we start where we left off? Are you alright with that?" Sherlock nodded. "Do you remember the last thing you said to me?"

"Of course not, I wanted to forget it."

"You said you blame yourself for your wife's death. Do you still?" Sherlock began to get uncomfortable like he had the last time. He nodded slightly. "Would you like to tell me why?" Sherlock shook his head. "Then _why _are you here? I _can _help you, Sherlock. And I promise to try my best to do so. But you have to let me. You have to tell me something." Mr Banks didn't shout, but he did seem a little angry and frustrated. Sherlock could see that he was just trying to help. There was another silence. Sherlock could see Mr Banks was close to giving up.

"I blame myself..." Sherlock coughed. "I blame myself because I wasn't there." Mr Banks listened to Sherlock intensely. "I didn't even solve the case. I should have but I spent too much time with Rachel. I wanted... I wanted to be with her. That backfired in my face."

"What case was this?"

"His case. There had been a few murders and I'd been asked to try and figure it out. It wasn't a usual case, not something even I could solve in a day. But, I would've solved it sooner if I hadn't spent so much time with her, then she wouldn't be dead. It was a stupid problem. If I spent time with her she would have died, which she did. But if I didn't then she wouldn't and we wouldn't spend time with each other. And I want her alive because I want to spend time with her. And now... now she's not here." Mr Banks looked at this man he had once seen as heartless and arrogant and saw him as a man who had lost his heart because he loved something too much.

"You said there was another reason?"

"Yes... yes. I wasn't there to pick her up. She told me she finished late for work, and I didn't think to pick her up. Even though there was a murderer around. I guess I never thought... I never thought it would happen to her."

"I see..." Mr Banks sighed. "When did you last get to see her, or even speak to her?"

"I spoke to her after lunch. I remember..." Sherlock's face started to light up as he remembered her smile when he brought her that coffee. He was crying but he was happy to remember. "I remember her calling me and she said I was an idiot, but she loved it. She told me that she'd try and get home early for dinner. Just pizza."

"And then what happened?"

"I went back home and started to look over the case notes again. I then went out to buy some flowers and things and a candle, for her."

"When did you realise something was wrong?" Sherlock wasn't really feeling uncomfortable until this question. He'd felt alright opening himself up to Mr Banks because he got to remember Rachel. However, this question would then lead onto the question of _the last message._

"It... it was nine at night. She wasn't home yet, so I called her. No answer, so I kept trying, about five times and there was still no answer. I got this... this stupid idea she was cheating, but I tried to forget that. Then I thought she might be going to get the pizza. So, I went outside and looked everywhere. I went to her work and checked there, no sign. I went to pizza places near there but no sign there either."

"Did you not call again?"

"You see... that was stupid... I left my phone... I left it at home." Sherlock began to cry more. Mr Banks passed him a tissue.

"Why was it stupid?" Sherlock didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to talk about that message. He couldn't.

* * *

_Sherlock ran back home. He didn't understand where she could be. The thought of her cheating was still in his head but he didn't want that to be the answer. He didn't really think of the other possible reasons it could have been. He picked up his phone and was about to call Rachel once again, when he noticed he had a message from Rachel's phone. He quickly listened. It was strange. "Sherlock? Sorry I didn't answer, I forgot my phone and I had to go back to-" it stopped there. Then, there was a second message from a number he didn't recognise. He listened to the message. He shouldn't have._

* * *

"Sherlock?" Sherlock gulped hard and began to explain. "And what was the last message."

"It... it was..." Sherlock found it difficult to speak. "It was Rachel. Her last minutes. She called for me. She kept calling and I couldn't do anything. She thought I was going to be there. She waited... she waited for me to come. She was helpless and I was meant to save her. I was meant to protect her but I couldn't! She started to realise... she realised I wasn't coming. She started screaming and pleading. She asked him to leave her. She didn't want to die. I could have saved her if I hadn't forgotten my phone. He laughed at her. Then. Then there was silence. No more screaming. No more pleading. No more shouting for help. Just silence."

* * *

**Please, please review because I don't know if I did well with the flashbacks, so please review so I know whether to continue.**


	12. Chapter 12

**The text in both bold and italics are Sherlock's thoughts. Please, please review :) thanks for everyone who has followed and reviewed so far :D **

* * *

The day after Sherlock wasn't doing any better. Mr Banks had given him some pills for the depression which he refused to take. He still couldn't cope, which was normal seeing as he'd only had one therapy session. John tried to get Sherlock to come from his bed because Mr Banks had advised to keep him occupied. This was also hard because he still got small pains from is wound where he'd been shot.

John went into Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock was facing him, his eyes were wide open but neither of them said a word. John looked at Sherlock desperately. He needed him to get out of bed. He needed to see him fight this. He looked up to Sherlock as a hero and if this knocked Sherlock down then how would he be able to look at Sherlock for help? He needed Sherlock to get better because he needed the real him. "John..." Sherlock sighed. "John, there's no point in me getting up. I just see her everywhere I go. Everything comes back to me."

"Please, Sherlock. You have to at least try. You refuse the pills which can help you and you basically refuse all help we have offered you. You want to stop this, so please." Sherlock looked at John with sadness in his eyes, he couldn't do it. John sighed and knew he could do nothing more, so he left the room.

However, later that day, Sherlock wandered into the living room. He wore his pyjamas and a dressing gown and he lay on the sofa. He looked around and thought about her. All the time. He hated it, but he knew he had to get out of his bedroom, everything was worse there. John offered to make him some food and a drink, but Sherlock refused.

_**She would wake up and I would just lay there, smiling at her. I made a terrible breakfast that morning, but she ate it anyway, she always would. Then there was the call from her work. I was annoyed because I wanted to spend time with her that day. However, I let her go. If I just said no. If I told her that I didn't want her to go because I wanted to be with her. I'd still see her beautiful smile. **_

"Sherlock, Lestrade called." John interrupted Sherlock's thoughts at the right time. Sherlock sat up slowly. "He asked if you were ready to solve a case yet?" John knew it might be inappropriate for Sherlock to go seeing as he'd been shot and he's hardly in a stable condition, but he thought it could distract Sherlock's mind and hopefully occupy him for a day or so.

"Fine." John was surprised Sherlock agreed so easily and quickly, but he didn't argue.

**He said yes, we'll meet you at Scotland Yard in half an hour –JW**

"I told him we'll meet him in half an hour." Sherlock knew that was an attempt to ask him to hurry up and get dressed. He slowly staggered to his bedroom to get some proper clothes so he looked presentable because he didn't want anyone to know he was in a bad way. Lestrade already knew, and he knew Sherlock's wife. Obviously not so well, and he didn't actually know they were married until the night she died. So, Sherlock had to act as if everything was alright.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry, this chapter is a little short :) thanks to everyone who is following and who have favorited this story.**

* * *

Sherlock went to Scotland Yard with John and tried to act as if everything was alright. Lestrade took them into his office and offered them both a seat. Sherlock had to try and be careful not to hurt himself because of the wound. "Are you sure you're alright to do this case, Sherlock?" Sherlock looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Of course. I was shot but it doesn't stop me from doing my work."

"Yes, but it was him. I do feel partially responsible for everything; I should never have let you deal with that case."

"You didn't know it was him until I worked it out."

"Still, I should never have let you gone after him."

"I would've even if you did tell me." Lestrade didn't respond to this.

"Alright. But how have you been? Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine." Sherlock looked at John to make sure he didn't tell Lestrade anything about the therapist or what has been going on. So John just smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Well, that's good. Anyway, someone's gone missing. A woman in her early 20s called Catherine Miller. No one knows where she could've gone and she was last seen two days ago near Big Ben with her friends. Her friends said she was a little anxious before she left them but she wouldn't tell them why."

"Family history?"

"She was adopted, her biological parents are Anne and Steven Waid and her adopted parents are Jill and Paul Miller." Sherlock sat there, thinking for a moment. His mind slowly kept drifting off to Rachel and it was hard to stop it. Eventually, he managed to work out a plan.


	14. Chapter 14

He, Lestrade and John had gone to interview Catherine's friends and then her family. It didn't take Sherlock to figure out where she was and why she had been hiding. John was amazed that he had been able to figure it out so quickly. Obviously there were some mistakes made by him because his mind wasn't able to work as well as it did before, but it was still quick and thorough. Lestrade was also impressed. John had told him secretly that Sherlock was in therapy because of what had happened to his wife. Lestrade understood and promised to keep it a secret.

They got back to the house and Sherlock rested his scarf and his coat on the desk chair and then placed himself on the armchair. John sat on the opposite one. "That was good." He smiled. Sherlock looked at him for a moment and realised that it was. It was good seeing as he'd been in a bad state recently.

_**It was obvious though. I should have been able to figure out the other case as easily as this. This was exactly the same difficulty so why couldn't I figure it all out? I wanted to be with Rachel but delaying that case resulted in her... in her... Maybe if I had just solved it she'd be here. And even if it meant we hardly got to spend time together, it would still spare an innocent life. A life that should have been saved. It was all my fault. If I had answered that phone call and hadn't left my phone at home, maybe I would have gotten there in time. Why was I so slow?!**_

"But, you figure these things out fast so I don't know why I was surprised." John smiled like nothing had ever changed.

"Yes, I do. Why do I?" John looked puzzled by Sherlock's question.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do I figure these ones out fast? Why wasn't I able to figure others out fast? I could've saved more people. I could have saved her." John sighed. He pushed himself forward, closed his hands together and placed them on his knees.

"You could have. You didn't, though. Sherlock, dwelling over the past won't change it. Maybe you could have saved her. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. You don't know. But she wouldn't want you blaming yourself for it. It wasn't your fault. It was the man. He killed her, not you. Don't blame yourself otherwise you'll end up just doing nothing all day everyday. Moping around. She wouldn't want that. You need to get yourself together so you can help others."

"Why should I? I couldn't save her, why do they all get to live?" John wasn't going to argue with Sherlock for saying this because he knew that people get like this. He had been in this place before when he thought Sherlock was dead. He hated others for being alive when Sherlock wasn't. He even thought it would be better if he and Sherlock had swapped places because he felt Sherlock was more important than him.

"Because she would have wanted that. She wouldn't want people's lives in danger. She wouldn't want others to die in the result of her death when there's a man perfectly capable of saving them. You can help these people, and she would want that. She wouldn't want you to sit back and listen to them call for help and you're just lying in bed or whatever. She'd want you to help them. Don't make it so that you don't save these people because someone you loved died. She wouldn't want that. I swear to you." Sherlock didn't speak. He understood where John was coming from. He realised that John was right. He had to stop. He had to stop moping around. He had to help people. Yes, maybe he wasn't really doing it for them, but he was doing it for Rachel, and that's what made it worth while. Sherlock nodded to John.

"I'm going to see Mr Banks tomorrow. I will stop this." Sherlock wasn't really reassuring John, more like himself. He was determined to stop himself from getting hurt again.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed this story! Part 2 is here: s/9354973/1/The-Shooting-Part-2-What-s-going-on**


End file.
